


Hydaelyn's Twelve

by sylphiawings



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurot (Final Fantasy XIV), Bittersweet, Conflict of Interests, End of Days, Family Dynamics, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Friendship, Gen, Headcanon, I hope I did these characters justice, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Spoilers, What-If, my take on the Final Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26662108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylphiawings/pseuds/sylphiawings
Summary: In the Final Days, the citizens of Amaurot make a difficult choice. This is the story of the Twelve that chose differently.
Kudos: 8





	Hydaelyn's Twelve

**Author's Note:**

> **HEAVY HEAVY SPOILERS FOR FFXIV SHADOWBRINGERS!** Please proceed at your own risk!
> 
> This was written for the [Shadowbringers Anthology](https://issuu.com/xivwritersguild/docs/shadowbringersanthology) from the XIV Writer's Guild on Discord. There are other wonderful stories in there, please check it out! And if you wish to join the XIV Writer's Guild, let me know!

###  **Nophica, the Matron**

Hythlodaeus enjoyed his job the most whenever people from the Anyder would argue in front of his office while submitting their concepts to the Bureau of Architects. They always had such interesting discussions; whether it was prudent to create a new species of plant for the harvest, whether it was helpful to stimulate the predator-prey cycle by introducing new areas, et cetera. It was a personal joy in his day when he gets to hear insightful discussions about how the creations would benefit Amaurot.

This time, however, he was confronted with a rather... difficult person.

"Lahabrea has already approved of this," Nophica, one of the most distinguished scholars from the Akadaemia, waved the concepts form in front of Hythlodaeus like it was scrap. "I'm unsure why this needs further approval, Hythlo."

The Chief of the Bureau of Architects sighed at his childhood nickname. Nophica was a woman of many talents, and since birth, had an affinity with gardening and nature creation. Unfortunately, she tended to be too proud of that fact sometimes, which spared him and their other childhood friends no small amount of grief.

"Nophi, we've been through this," Hythlodaeus accepted her form and looked over it. It was a proposal for introducing a new species of monsters to cull the resilient Daeryn weeds that have been growing in the Akadaemia greenhouse. Normally, this would be fine, but there needs to be contingency measures to make sure these monsters don't run rampant after their creation. Natural predators, birth control, making sure the weeds do not die out, and more. "You need to give me more research on how these creatures can be contained. Then, I can approve."

Nophica rummaged through her case and grabbed a stack of papers, thick enough to blow a hole through their marble floor if dropped from a sufficient height. Indeed, the woman dropped the stack on Hythlodaeus' desk with a hard thunk. "I had submitted this research paper to the Head Academician of the Akadaemia, Lord Thaliak, and it had his approval. _And,_ Lahabrea has already read this and approved."

Hythlodaeus eyed the stack of papers warily. "Nophi, I'm not sure if you want to bore the Bureau with this, or if you want to kill someone. Maybe both."

Nophica pursed her lips and leaned back, her disapproving glare shooting daggers at her old friend. _Ah, there it is,_ he suppressed a chuckle. The famous glare that he and Hades had to endure since childhood.

"There is a reason we have a concise, easy-to-fill form for the Bureau of Architects," Hythlodaeus said, not backing down from her stare. "The Bureau is incredibly busy, with a thousand submissions a day. We do not have the time to read a stack of research papers--"

"Then make time," Nophica said brusquely. "The longer we discuss this, the more resilient those weeds get."

"Then give me a concise retelling of your research, preferably no more than a page," Hythlodaeus shot back.

Nophica stood up, enraged, through the effect was significantly diminished by the fact that she was barely taller than his desk. "Then why'd you let Rhalgr and his children breed those weeds like no tomorrow!? I know it was to see the effects of the blight in the far south - but this research includes all the details _they_ missed--"

"General Rhalgr's research was approved by my predecessor," Hythlodaeus said calmly. "And if you wish to raise objections about them, that should be with the Council of Travelers." He slid the form back to her side of the desk. "Or, you can ask Azem."

Nophica's pout was endearing, but if he said that aloud, she'd probably hit him. Since childhood, Azem was like a parent to Nophica, who was the youngest among their friends, by far. Whenever their name came up, she deflates faster than a balloon.

"... Fine. I'll come back with a summary," she said as she slowly grabbed the stack of papers, but Hythlodaeus halted her hand. She looked up, confused, but was greeted with a cheeky smile.

"That being said, I am immensely interested in your research," he said, which made Nophica raise her brows. "I will read this and review your form once I'm done."

Her eyebrow twitched. "You made me argue for this for fifteen minutes for you to just accept it in the end?"

Hythlodaeus shifted the stack of papers over to his side of the desk and started with the first page. "However, I will still need the summary. I may read your research, but the Bureau won't." He wiggled his brows. "Good luck, old friend."

Nophica huffed as she grabbed the form and walked out of Hythlodaeus' office, much to his amusement. He started rifling through the intimidating research notes, and one line caught his eye.

_"Though the Daeryn weed was responsible for most of the destruction of crops in the south, the appearance of the weed was from an unknown origin. Theories range from a rare crossbreed of crops in the region, or a mix of soil minerals creating a hybrid plant, or, possibly the most outlandish, unchecked creation magicks going rogue from the region's half-Amaurotian population, even though studies show that most half-Amaurotians do not posses creation magicks, as they are a recessive gene in other races."_

He had much to tell Hades tomorrow.

  


* * *

  


###  **Rhalgr, the Destroyer | Halone, the Fury**

"HYAHH!" A scream tore through the quiet morning air as Halone thrust her spear against the training dummy. She followed this with a jump and swerve, rolling onto the grassy hills before throwing her weapon point-first into the mark drawn in the middle of the dummy. A loud thunk resounded as the spear hit home.

From a nearby tent, Rhalgr walked out, his hair disheveled and a yawn tore through his mouth. He rubbed his eyes and frowned.

"Halone, it is _early._ What in the blazes are you doing, training in the crack of dawn?" he chided.

Halone wiped her brow and yanked the spear out. "Good morning, Father," she replied.

"Not a 'good' morning when I am woken up to the sound of you practicing," he grumbled.

Halone frowned. "Forgive me. I was restless." She paused. "Brother hasn't come home since last night."

At that, Rhalgr stopped in his tracks. He surveyed the surroundings. They were in the edge of the camp for the Council of Travelers, on top of a hill overlooking the rest of the tents, and with a perfect view of the southern border for Amaurot. You could see the skyline of Amaurot in the distance, still majestic even from afar. The sun was just peeking through the horizon, and a few of the sentries had started to return from their night shifts. Aside from the border gates and the camp, the rest of the landscape were flat, grassy hills.

"Did Byregot send a message before he left?" Rhalgr asked, suddenly alert. This was uncharacteristic of his eldest child and only son - usually he would send word if his work took too long.

"He..." Halone hesitated. "He said not to worry. But Brother tends to do things that make me worry."

Rhalgr sighed. Byregot, his son, chose a different line of work than he and his daughter Halone. While Rhalgr and his daughter chose the military life, seeking to serve Amaurot with their strength and skill with weapons, Byregot chose to serve their nation by being an architect, his exceptional affinity with creation magicks allowing him to join the Council of Travelers to build homes and cities for their neighboring nations and races. Considering he and his sister were half-Amaurotian, the fact that he could _do_ creation magicks was special, and he made full use of that skill in any way possible. His altruism was commendable, and Rhalgr was proud to call him his son, but sometimes Byregot spent far too long into his work, letting his creations flow freely without rest. This wasn't the first time he had not come back to camp after one of his expeditions, but it was the first time he did so without letting his family know.

It was rare that Rhalgr spent time with his children. As a General of the Amaurotine Army, it was hard to line up time with his children, who are getting busier as they grew older. That's why, this time, when all three of them were able to be in the same place due to their work, he found it all the more reason to spare time for family. He knew Byregot felt the same, which is why this was uncharacteristic of him.

"Is Azem here?" Rhalgr asked. "Maybe they know where your brother went."

Halone shook her head. "I was told that Azem is missing as well." She contemplated a bit before her next words. "I say 'missing', but this happens often enough for them, so I assumed it was not important."

Rhalgr stared at her long enough to make it awkward.

"Was... was that not the best decision?" Halone fidgeted under her father's knowing stare.

"Follow me," the General said, grabbing the nearest sword in their armory behind the training dummy. "We should go to Daeryn village."

  


* * *

  


###  **Byregot, the Builder**

"This house is slightly crooked," Byregot mused, peering into the foundation of a stone house that he had created about a week ago.

Azem peered from over their research paper. "Hm. That's unlike you to mess up." They rummaged through their satchel. "I have the schematics, if you want to double-check--"

"It's fine," he mused, waving his hand dismissively. "I was probably distracted."

Azem raised their eyebrow. "That's even _more_ unlike you. Maybe you need rest."

"Maybe," Byregot gave them a cheeky smile. Azem crossed their hands before going back into their papers, sparing the argument.

They were right outside a makeshift tent in Daeryn village, south of the Amaurot border, where the blight had far-reaching consequences. Many of the inhabitants have passed on or have been displaced due to the shortage of food. Even now, looking around, there were not many people around despite the morning already well into its way. Few of the women were out shopping in the sparse morning market, and only a handful of the men were out checking their farmland crops, even though most were dried and grey from the Daeryn weed. Most of the children were still asleep, or had been sent to live somewhere else due to shortage. It wasn't a pleasant situation to live in. Hence, many Amaurot scholars and organizations have made it a mission to provide for their neighbor. Even though Daeryn was far smaller than the grand city landscape of Amaurot, many of their own had called the south of the border home, including Byregot and Halone's mother, and they spared no expense to help.

And besides, the blight itself was ripe for picking by their scholars and architects - the study into the Daeryn weed alone spawned many theories and research.

Azem yawned unceremoniously as they peered through their papers. "Have we truly been awake all night?" they asked groggily.

Byregot laughed. " _You_ have. I had at least twenty minutes of rest."

Azem chuckled. "It's not a competition, Byre. And have you let the General know?"

The Builder yawned and scratched his head. "I told Halone I would be busy, but the girl tends to worry too much. I wouldn't be surprised if Father marched here." He hesitated. "Maybe I should have sent word. It's what I would usually do."

"Why the change of pace?" Azem tilted their head.

"Not sure," Byregot shrugged. "... Maybe." He went silent as he brushed over the crooked stone house. "There's been something wrong with my creation magic lately."

Azem paused, surprised. "What do you mean, 'something wrong'? Amaurotines don't just have that 'go wrong'."

"I'm not fully Amaurotine," Byregot smiled.

"Does that matter? You have your father's blood. And your mother's is something to be proud of, too."

He smiled, the pain of his late mother's memory etched into his eyes. "Maybe then she would understand why, every time I try to create something, there's this dull ringing in the back of my head."

Azem stared. "Dull ringing?"

"It's like..." he struggled to find the words. "The longer I concentrate, and the more I create, my head feels like it's being bashed with a rock. A dull rock. But the longer I do it, the rock becomes bigger... like my mind is begging me to stop."

Azem looked taken aback. This was the first time they had heard something like this, regardless of whether you were half-Amaurotine or not. "How long as this been happening?"

"It's been a few months. In the beginning, I had hoped it to be just exhaustion. But more and more, it doesn't seem to be so."

"And you haven't told your father." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.

Byregot smiled bitterly. "The last thing I would want is to worry my family. You know how protective Halone is. Where do you think she got it from?" He stared into the horizon, the sun starting to reach high in the sky, signaling noon soon. "Sometimes I think she's the older one, rather than me."

"Byre," Azem walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should go home and have it checked. I could ask Menphina to--"

"No need to bother the nurses with this," Byregot patted their hand on his should once before brushing it off. "I'll ask Menphina myself to see if something's wrong with me. But before that, I would like to consult with my family." He gestured vaguely in the distance, and Azem followed his line of sight - on top of the hill at the edge of the village, two figures stood with their weapons on their back. It was hard not to distinguish General Rhalgr's imposing figure, and his slightly smaller but still lanky daughter, Halone, striding beside him. Byregot gave them a hearty wave, beckoning them their way, ending the conversation.

Azem frowned in worry, but as Byregot resumed back to his inspection, they shoved the information in the back of their mind as the two approached their tent. Azem mentally made a note to send word to Hades about this peculiar development.

  


* * *

  


###  **Oschon, the Wanderer | Menphina, the Lover**

In a large medical tent nearer to the southeast border of Amaurot, at the end of a large row of beds, a small dining hall and a kitchen stands busy. Menphina, one of the head nurses in charge, was happily humming to herself as she flipped an egg omelet on her frying pan, above the stove right next to the kitchen counter. It was almost lunchtime, and she and her fellow nurses and chefs were getting ready to prepare meals for their patients.

The dining hall was only half full, as most of the patients were still bedridden. In the southeast border, in a city called Atlasdam, most of those who were displaced by the blight sought refuge here, since it was the closest, largest city near Daeryn village and its surroundings, not counting Amaurot itself. Most of the patients were diagnosed with malnutrition and fatigue, so a good, balanced diet was key.

Thankfully, more often than not these days, the beds were slowly getting emptied. Thanks to the Council of Travelers and Azem's guidance, most of the refugees had settled in Atlasdam with little effort after their recovery. It was heartwarming for Menphina to see.

"'Phina?" a small voice called her. It was her fellow head nurse, Ofelia.

"Yes, 'Feli?" Menphina put down her pan and turned off the stove, putting the omelet on a nearby plate, ready for serving.

"Do you know when the hunters get back? We're running low on supplies, and I need to clean the empty patients' beds," Ofelia said.

Menphina looked outside the window behind her, and stared at the afternoon sky. It was still bright out, and the sky was the bluest today. A perfect day to hunt out in the grassy flatlands of the southeast, which meant that the first hunting party should be back soon. They had left at the crack of dawn, and according to the hunt rotations, the next one should be due out soon.

"Hopefully within the hour," Menphina replied, doing an estimate off the top of her head.

Ofelia put her hand in her chin, contemplating. "Did your husband mention anything?"

Menphina scoffed. "Oschon loses himself out there when he's found a good quarry. I doubt even if he did tell me, I'd have to ask his party to personally drag him back."

Ofelia giggled. "That does sound like him," she ceded. "I'll send word to call them back soon."

"No need," a rough voice interjected. Menphina squeaked as she felt hands circle her hips from behind in a gentle hug.

"Oschon!" Menphina chided as she playfully slapped his shoulder, surprised at his sudden arrival. Oschon, by virtue of being taller and bigger by profession, ignored her and nuzzled his face into her neck, which caused her to blush deeply. His large satchel lay forgotten behind him, and his large bow and quiver tucked menacingly behind his back. Despite that, at times like these, he was akin to a large teddy bear. Menphina inhaled his scent, and he smelled like grass and sweat.

"Missed you," Oschon whispered. Menphina's blush deepened. She gently stroked his hair in reply.

She was certain he was going to kiss her then and there had Ofelia not coughed very loudly and obnoxiously.

"As much as I would like to see you two _indulge,_ " Ofelia said sarcastically, and the implication made Menphina flush, "We have work to do, 'Phina." Ofelia crossed her hands as Oschon looked up from nuzzling his wife's neck, his hands still around her. Unlike her, however, he didn't seem embarrassed by their public display of affection. Ofelia cracked a smile at the couple. "Welcome back, Oschon."

"'Feli," he nodded in greeting, raising a hand with a smile.

Ofelia gestured towards the large satchel. "Are those supplies?"

Oschon looked down, letting go of Menphina, and hauled the satchel over his shoulder. "Sort of, yes, but I have some stuff to submit to the Akadaemia. The rest of the hunting party will be here soon to give you most of the supplies."

Just as he said that, the dining hall doors opened, and a bunch of hunters walked in with their large satchels and their weapons behind their backs. There was rambunctious laughter abound, making the previously somber dining hall burst to life. Many of the patients greeted the hunters back, and the nurses and chefs enthusiastically welcoming them with hugs and claps, before they swiftly took the supplies and got to work. With the sudden hubbub in the hall, Ofelia wiped her hands on her apron and walked out to greet the hunters and issue orders to the nurses and chefs, leaving Oschon and Menphina alone in the kitchen.

"Welcome home," Menphina touched her husband's arm and smiled.

Oschon gave her a toothy grin and quickly gave her a small peck on the lips. The gesture made her stomach flutter. They've been married for two years now, but she never got used to how _expressive_ Oschon was with his love - in public and private. Menphina shook the thoughts away. They had work to do. They can indulge later.

"I'm back," he said. He hauled the satchel up again and grabbed a piece of bread from the basket on the kitchen counter, waving to one of the chefs in the dining hall. "Anything happen while I was gone?"

Menphina thought for a second. "Little Dale stopped coughing today, thankfully," she remembered with a smile. "Oh, and Byregot sent word from Daeryn. He says the re-building of the village is proceeding apace. Azem is working without rest, it seems."

"When are they not ever?" Oschon sighed, taking another bite of his bread.

"How was the hunt?" Menphina said as she wiped some excess crumbs on her husband's cheek.

"Tedious, but good, as always," he said. "If only Halone was here. She'd help make the rotations faster. But alas, she's needed with the General." He took another slice of bread. "There's been some strange monsters roaming the outskirts as of late."

Menphina frowned. "Again?"

He gestured towards the sack. "That's a sample of what I could give to the Akadaemia. Whatever it is, or wherever it came from... it was tough."

Menphina approached the sack and briefly peeked through the flap. There was a dark tuft of fur and small wisps of dark haze that flew out. She felt the nausea rise to her throat and decided to end her curiosity there. Despite her husband being a hunter, and herself being a head nurse that is used to dealing with blood, she still couldn't stomach seeing a dead quarry.

"Did Nophica give Azem answers to her study of the last sample we gave her?" Oschon asked.

Menphina shook her head. "Apparently she's busy with the Bureau of Architects. Hythlodaeus has been giving her a rough time approving her research. Understandable, considering the last time we dealt with the Daeryn weed, it wasn't pretty in the Akadaemia greenhouse." She sighed. "Might be a long while yet. The Convocation of the Fourteen has done well to send relief aid for the blight so far, but these new mysteries keep popping up." She gestured towards the large satchel.

"Prolongs the relief effort," Oschon nodded. He stared over the kitchen counter, where the rest of his hunting party were happily eating and interacting with the patients. "My men and women would love to go home soon. It's been months since they've met their families. I'd like to grant them leave soon."

Menphina followed his gaze. "I agree," she said, observing the nurses and chefs working hard to sort out supplies and serve the food.

Suddenly, the door to the kitchen squeaked open, and a small child holding a rabbit doll was yawning and rubbing his eyes. He sniffed and wiped his snot over his patient's robes. "'Phina," he sobbed.

On automatic instinct, Menphina moved towards the child, leaving the sack. She took out a handkerchief and wiped his tears as she knelt to his eye-level. "What's wrong, Dale?" she stroked his hair.

The small boy sniffed. "Bad dream again," he said. He put his arms around her neck and hugged tightly.

With a heave, Menphina held Dale and carried him in her arms as she stood up. She mouthed to Oschon to go to the drawers and get some cookies, which were the boy's favorite snack. She made a mental note to stay with him tonight as he slept.

Dale was one of the youngest patients here. The rest of his family was still in Daeryn village, trying to see what crops they could salvage from their family farm. Unfortunately, he was here as a refugee alone, as the farm needed all hands on deck. Thankfully, he adapted well and grew attached to Menphina very quickly. When he arrived, he was malnourished and weak; a few months later, the boy had filled in his weight for his age, but he still had recurring nightmares.

As Oschon rummaged the drawer and took out a jar of cookies, Menphina hummed and held Dale as his sobs and sniffles slowly died down. She briefly wondered if this is what it felt like if they had children. Unfortunately, due to the nature of their work with the Council of Travelers, they never found the time to try and settle down. However, she wouldn't have it any other way, as Oschon went over to Dale's field of vision and patted his head, nibbling on a cookie.

"Here you go, kid," Oschon said with a toothy smile. Dale, seeing the cookie, brightened up and took a large bite, his sniffles gone. The man closed the jar and put it on the counter as he walked towards the sack. "'Phina, I'll go and drop this off at the post."

"Sure," Menphina said, rocking Dale as he nibbled on the cookie. His small wide eyes looked at the sack.

"What is that?" he asked. He struggled off of Menphina's grip and fell off, dashing towards the sack.

"Hey, kid--" Oschon started.

For his age, Dale was fast, and he opened the flap of the sack, exposing Oschon's dead quarry in the kitchen.

It was a grotesque creature with six spindly arms, strange green markings over its black fur, and the 'face' - if it even was one - was open-mouthed in shock, the whites in its three eyes visible. It was barely bigger than Dale himself. What surprised Menphina is there was barely any blood, but rather, there was festering dark haze she saw earlier flowing out of the arrow sticking out of its back, courtesy of Oschon's bow.

Dale screamed, a piercing sound that cut through the kitchen and the dining hall, and Oschon quickly covered his quarry closed and held Dale away from view, cursing under his breath.

Menphina had barely enough time to register everything before Ofelia and a couple of hunters burst into the kitchen, battle-ready. "What happened!?" she cried.

She quickly shushed the untimely arrival of everyone else as Oschon rocked Dale's sobbing, crying form in his arms, trying to calm him down. Menphina gestured one of the hunters to take the quarry away and gestured Ofelia to calm the dining hall down. She could see, beyond the kitchen counter, that everyone was looking their way, whispers abound. She dragged Oschon out of the kitchen and outside to the small garden in the back, if only to give Dale some peace.

"It's okay, kid," Oschon tried to soothe him as they walked along the breezy afternoon outside. "It's already gone. It won't hurt you."

Dale only cried harder, but he clung to Oschon tighter. "No, it will!" He wailed.

"Dale--" Oschon started.

"That's the monster," he bawled. "The one in my nightmares. That's him," he cried, his loud wails enough for everyone within earshot to hear.

Menphina stared in shock as Oschon rubbed Dale's back, barely hiding his surprise. He looked to his wife for confirmation, but she seemed to be just as perplexed as he was.

"Are you sure?" Oschon cautiously asked, stroking his hair.

Dale's only response was to cry harder, clinging onto him for dear life.

Menphina did a small rationalization in her head. Children as young as Dale wouldn't have such a visceral reaction to something he's never seen before, so he must be telling the truth. The problem is, how would this monster - newly arrived to the area - be the same one as the one in Dale's dreams? That would be impossible. Unless--

Realization struck her as she remembered, Dale was half-Amaurotian from his mother's side. Though most half-Amaurotians don't have innate creation magic, there are those rare ones who do - Byregot being an example, compared to his sister Halone, who had no such magic. When Dale was brought in, he frequently had nightmares to this day. Nightmares of monsters burning down cities and devouring him, and a loud, loud ringing. She only remembered because Dale always told the same story, the same nightmare, every time she accompanied him to sleep.

Oschon noticed her facial expression change as he soothed Dale. "What is it?" he asked her.

Menphina furrowed her brow. "I'm going to write to Azem," she said. She ignored Oschon's questioning look and forwarded him towards the city, to the nearby inn where the husband and wife shared a room. "For now, let's take care of Dale."

  


* * *

  


###  **Thaliak, the Scholar**

_ {Few days later} _

Behind the large antique desk in one of the offices in Akadaemia Anyder, Head Academician of the Akadaemia, Lord Thaliak, was buried deep into the correspondence that he's received from many important figures as of late. He picked up one of the letters scattered across his papers, and frowned as he read it.

_Thaliak,  
It seems that there have been disturbing reports of half-Amaurotines with creation magicks going rampant as of late. I've attached a list of names and their contextual details from my Council of Travelers - if you could, please look over this with Nophica. I do believe she is still continuing her research on the blight, following General Rhalgr's research. She can provide some useful insight, as one of your best students.  
I've also sent word to Hades, so I would assume my colleagues at the Convocation are aware of the situation. I told him as an old friend, not as Emet-Selch, but you know he won't keep shut._

_P.S. Send my regards to Llym as well.  
Your friend,  
Azem_

Behind the small letter, there was a long list of names along with the detailed reports of their situation. Never in his life did Thaliak expect that looking at groundbreaking data and information would be a bad thing. Azem's list was comprehensive and, frankly, perfect to base their data on - but this was not a list to be happy about.

Having so many people have their creation magic going rogue for undetermined reasons was more terrifying than he'd like to admit. There were way too many risks involved, and almost no way to solve it peacefully.

He set Azem's letter aside and picked up another, this time from another Convocation member.

_Lord Thaliak,  
We are aware that the Council of Travelers have asked for your help in dealing with their issue about creation magic. As someone who was Emissary, we as the Convocation of the Fourteen need your insight in figuring out what to do. I loathe to admit, this seems to be beyond my ability. Therefore, I request a meeting with you to discuss this. I hope we are able to reach a satisfactory conclusion to handle this as soon as we can._

_Regards,  
Elidibus, the Emissary_

The time and date was stamped for today, in just a few minutes. Thaliak thought he could provide a satisfactory answer for Elidibus' query, but it was far easier said than done. The new boy who had recently been his successor as Elidibus was a brilliantly bright child, with insight and a way with words befitting his title, despite his improbably young age. Which is why, it was surprising that there was something that was even troubling to this child's adept mind. When Thaliak received the letter from Azem a few days earlier, he had hoped to consult Elidibus first, but it seems the boy beat him to it.

There was a knock on his hard-wood door, two short raps. "Lord Thaliak?" a distinctly female voice called out.

Thaliak sighed. "Come in, Llymlaen," he called.

The door opened, and one of his best and brightest, Llymlaen, walked in with a large tome in her hand. In preparation of Elidibus' arrival, Thaliak had asked two of his brightest to join them, but only Llymlaen was available at the appointed time. Nophica was, apparently, busy meeting 'an old friend', who he suspected to be Emet-Selch - possibly for the same issue. No matter - he would consult her at a later time.

Llymlaen looked around his office; it was relatively large, as expected for the Head Academician. the walls lined with shelves upon shelves of books. The only other furniture there was his large desk and the large sofa across the armchair Lord Thaliak currently sits in, along with some prominent Amaurotian figures portraits on the walls. She walked towards the sofa and cleaned up some scattered papers, stacking them on her side of the desk neatly.

"When will Elidibus be arriving?" Llymlaen asked as she hugged her tome.

"Soon," Thaliak answered. "Azem sends his regards to you," he smiled.

It was barely perceptible, but her normally stoic face lit up slightly upon hearing their friend's name.

As soon as she did, there were three distinct raps on the door, and a young boy's voice called out. "Lord Thaliak, it is Elidibus."

"Come in," Thaliak said. He gestured Llymlaen to clean the other end of the sofa as the door to his office opened, revealing a small child in a white robe and the red mask almost every member of the Convocation owned. Elidibus also carried a large tome much like Llymlaen did, so when the young Emissary moved to sit next to Thaliak's brightest pupil, he could see the similarities between them.

"It's been a while, Lord Thaliak," Elidibus bowed. "And greetings to you, Llymlaen." he nodded in her direction.

Llymlaen started, possibly surprised in Elidibus' formality despite their closeness in age, but regained her slight change in composure and nodded back. Thaliak held his tongue to comment on the fact how _young_ these two were, but surely they've heard that one too many times. They were no longer his students, they were well on their way close to his equals now.

"Now then," Thaliak tapped on Azem's letter. "Shall we start?"

"Yes," both Llymlaen and Elidibus said simultaneously, and Thaliak couldn't help but think that Amaurot had a bright future in their hands.

Hopefully.

  


* * *

  


###  **Llymlaen, the Navigator**

When the two young scholars left Lord Thaliak's office, Llymlaen felt a large pressure looming over her shoulder. The topic and discussion was far too heavy, and it took the three of them the better part of the day. Even then, they barely had come to a conclusion - to grant the half-Amaurotians with creation magic a refuge in Amaurot for their safety - but it was better than most of the alternatives for now. She hugged her tome awkwardly and turned to Elidibus, who closed the door to the office behind him.

"Elidibus," she said. "Would you like to walk outside with me? It seems to be a beautiful day."

The young boy turned to her. He was only slightly shorter than her, though both were close in age. She remembered being jealous of his exceptionally brilliant mind, and even during his promotion as a Convocation member in just a few short years after entering the Akadaemia, she was deeply bitter; though, over the months, she had largely gotten over it as the boy kept in touch as her old friend and equal.

"Sure, but I must return this book to the records," Elidibus said, holding his own tome in a bear hug.

Llymlaen frowned. "Where did you even get that Book of Summoning? It seems like a complicated branch of creation magicks."

"I thought it was relevant to the discussion at hand," he said, walking down the marble hall, gesturing her to follow him. "Though Azem's data suggested otherwise. Most of the 'things' that the half-Amaurotines have created seem to be based on more... primal fears, on instinct rather than research. Anything else, they seem to be strained."

Llymlaen nodded. "But, the magick that that tome describes - it seems very along those lines. Primal fears, instincts, and such."

Elidibus flipped through the pages as they reached the Akadaemia gardens. "Not quite. Ah, here, it says, _'The one thing stronger than our fears - than our basic protective instincts, when it comes to creation - it is our wishes, our most deepest desires'._ "

She pondered for a moment. "Deepest desires? I can see that."

"Think about it," Elidibus gestured towards the greenhouse, where various members of the Akadaemia were cultivating their creations for various reasons. "Most common crops we cultivate, much like the paddies and fruits, are for our desire to sustain ourselves. The architects that created our skyscrapers are from our desires to put a roof over our heads."

"Yes, I see," Llymlaen nodded. "But would you argue that should those desires go unfulfilled, fears naturally come suit?"

Elidibus balked. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Without food, the fear of hunger exists. Without a roof to protect us from nature, the fear of natural disasters exist. Desires and fears are not necessarily without one or the other, my friend." Llymlaen pointed at his tome. "Say we entertain the idea of summoning an entity that is capable of granting us those deepest desires. It comes hand-in-hand that our fears should be rid of as well as a result. If not, then the summoning is rendered moot."

The boy went silent, seemingly dwelling on her words. She knew that once Elidibus was presented with a new concept, he preferred to take his time and do more research about it before adding his thoughts to the mix, which was a valuable mindset. That being said, that meant that most of their scholarly discussions often ended on a silent note, much like now - though she never minded his company.

Before she knew it, the two young scholars have arrived at the Akadaemia Records, only accessible to a select few in the Anyder. Llymlaen, being Thaliak's protégé, naturally has access, and Elidibus, as the Convocation's Emissary, automatically has access once he entered his position. When they opened the large doors, the Keeper of Records turned to them from the information desk right at the entrance. Behind him, rows upon rows of records and small reading chairs was seen, even on the second floor.

"'Tis good to see you again, Elidibus, Llymlaen," The Keeper of Records, Venat, greeted them.

"Venat," Llymlaen nodded in greeting, and Elidibus joined her in kind.

"What brings you two young minds here today?" Venat briefly checked his papers. "Llym, the book that you ordered on properties of crystal has not yet arrived."

"I'm here to return this, Venat," Elidibus placed the Book of Summoning in front of him. They were only barely taller than the marble information desk, so Venat had to lean forward to see them. "I borrowed it a few weeks ago."

"As is this," Llymlaen added, placing her tome as well. On the leather-bound cover, in bright gold lettering, were the words _The Theories of Memories and Anamnesis._ "Very exceptional field of study. Thank you for recommending it to me."

Venat curiously picked up both tomes and examined them thoroughly. "I see you two have been diving deep into more complex creation magicks," he mused. "What could have prompted this?"

"Convocation matters," Elidibus replied without missing a beat. "I had to speak to Lord Thaliak and Llymlaen for their insight."

Venat chuckled briefly. "'To steer mankind and the very star upon their true course', was it?" he said, reciting the Emissary's Convocation oath that Elidibus often did. "You've worked far too hard, my child. Please do not forget to enjoy the skies and weather every once in a while." Venat leaned forward and whispered so that only the two could hear. "Else, Igeyorhm would be very cross with me if I do not remind you."

Llymlaen laughed as Elidibus gave them a pout. "Do not worry, Venat. I will make sure he gets a breath of fresh air." She tugged on Elidibus' robes. "Come, let's enjoy the beautiful day. You promised me."

The boy bit his lip, but smiled. "Sure, of course, Llym." He started following her to the doors but stopped abruptly in his tracks.

Noticing his pause, Llymlaen stopped as well. "Elidibus? Let us go," she beckoned.

It was then that she noticed that her ears were ringing. She rubbed her ears to see what was wrong, but somehow, the ringing only got louder and louder. She was about to voice her concerns when she saw that both Elidibus and Venat were also clutching their ears, first in confusion, then in mild annoyance, then in pain. Llymlaen was about to approach them when a splitting, piercing screaming resounded from _somewhere,_ right down to her very bones.

Llymlaen screamed, but her voice seemed to be drowned out by this incessant ringing, this painful, prolonged shriek. She only barely caught Elidibus and Venat also crying out in pain, the Keeper of Records slumped over the desk. _So loud... so loud! What is this?_ Llymlaen cried out, tears prickling her eyes.

She felt her head shaking and her vision going static. Pain. A lot of pain. All she could see, hear, feel, think, was pain. A reverberating wail cut through her ears so loudly that she felt her eardrums would shatter. She slumped over on the floor, breathing heavily. Help, she said, but she wasn't sure if it was her voice or someone else's. The ground felt like it was shaking.

In the static of her vision, something shattered the windows of the Akadaemia records. The books and shelves were blown apart. Or was it? She didn't know. Everything was so painful. Red and orange colored the skies. The shriek grew louder. Louder. _Louder._

 _Llymlaen,_ a voice called out. She didn't know if it was real or not. Bile rose up her throat, tears streaming down her eyes, her ears felt caked with blood. She was on the floor. Or was she? She didn't know. Everything was painful.

"Llymlaen!" Elidibus yelled, kneeling over her fetal form on the floor.

And, as abruptly as it came, the screaming stopped. Llymlaen breathed heavily, foam in her mouth, tears still flowing. Her whole body went limp, but she managed to croak out. The pain slowly subsided, but her brain still felt like it was rattling. "Elidibus," she whispered, noticing that his complexion was not much better than hers. His mask was broken, his ears were bleeding, and his robes tattered and covered with shattered glass.

"Children!" Venat screamed from somewhere as a large _boom_ rattled the Akadaemia records. She only vaguely felt being picked up, her vision covered within Venat's robes. She felt Elidibus' hand circle around hers as they were both scooped up by Venat, running from the debris and the falling roof.

When they were outside, all she could see was red blotting out the blue skies before she fainted from exhaustion.

  


* * *

  


###  **Azeyma, the Warden**

_ {A week later} _

"It has been a while since all members of the Convocation of Fourteen have convened," The Speaker, Lahabrea, said. His voice reverberated throughout the hall, despite the roof torn half-open from... recent disasters. "Though, I had hoped that we had met under less... inauspicious circumstances.

Azem pursed their lips, trying not to frown. Most of the Convocation, however, did not bother to hide their distress at the situation, Igeyorhm and Altima being the most vocal.

They were standing in the Convocation hall within the Capitol, one of the few buildings that have not been utterly destroyed during the _sound_ a week prior. The Convocation members were all standing on their designated pillars around the hall, robes and masks equipped, as per formality. Azem themselves stood on their pillar, Emet-Selch to their right and Nabriales to their left. Lahabrea spoke directly across them, Igeyorhm to his right, and the young Elidibus, the only one in white robes, to his left. Azem scrunched their face. Out of all the members, Elidibus' wounds were the most dire, and yet the boy stood here to fulfill his duty, despite the others' insistence that he rest.

Though Azem was not one to chastise about overworking, they still couldn't help but worry.

"I'm sure you all understand the agenda of the meeting today - regarding the 'calamities' that have recently happened, and our own people suffering through their creation magicks going haywire," Lahabrea said. There was a note of sadness in his voice, which was rare. The Speaker should not speak in bias, but the circumstances were different.

"More than a quarter of our grand city has been leveled," Deudalaphon spoke out first, to Azem's far left. "And the casualties continue. General Rhalgr is doing his best with the army to quell the beasts that have run amok, but we fear it is only a matter of time before more are unwillingly created by our most affected citizens. Using our creation magicks to conjure more resources is too risky. The fight cannot be maintained much longer."

"The Akadaemia Anyder is also overrun," Halmarut added. "Lord Thaliak and his remaining scholars have done their best to do what they can, and have managed to save some of our most important concepts and books. They've been awake long hours trying to research the _sound._ "

"How is that going?" Mitron asked.

"... Not well," Halmarut slumped. "We know not the cause of the sound, where it came from, why it affects us so."

Fandaniel frowned. "Rare that Lord Thaliak would not have an answer," he crossed his hands. "But give them time. Hopefully there is a way."

"Do we have time?" Emet-Selch spoke. "In just a week, a quarter of our city leveled. Even now, as we speak, the city is burning. We have managed to put out the small fires, but the larger ones are yet to come."

At that, the Convocation went silent. It's clear that though they wanted a solution, no one had any idea, nor the power to do anything about it.

Azem raised their hand. "The cities beyond our borders and villages have all but been destroyed," they spoke grimly. "Few of my own Council of Travelers survived. They are currently taking refuge in the Anamnesis Anyder, but we are not sure how long that will last."

"Anamnesis?" Igeyorhm asked.

"Venat's creation and brainchild," Azem said. "The Bureau of Architects had it approved months ago as another center of research for our neighboring races. A pool of crystallized memories of entire races to further civilization." They drew a map in midair, and despite the ringing that came with the creation magic, they managed to pull through and point a spot at the map, slightly farther to the north of Amaurot. "The location is strategic for a temporary safe haven, but it is just that - temporary."

Silence ensued as the rest of the Convocation observed Azem's map, pondering on the state of their neighboring races and cities. They have not fared that much better in the aftermath. Entire races and continents have been wiped off the map, and the refugees are coming to Amaurot's borders in droves.

After a long silence, young Elidibus raised his hands. "May I suggest something?" he said.

"Go ahead," everyone mumbled simultaneously.

"On the day of the _sound,_ I was in a meeting with Lord Thaliak and Llymlaen regarding creation magicks going rogue," Elidibus started. He pulled out a tome from under his robes. From Azem's perspective, they could only barely read the title of the book - _The Book of Summoning._ "This is a book of theories regarding a complicated branch of creation magic. The ability to summon... a deity."

Azem balked, and the aura in the Convocation hall changed considerably. Summoning magic is an intricate, exceedingly complicated type of magic. It requires much of the creator, or summoner in this case, and it is not without sacrifices. The stronger the deity, the more sacrifices required, and the more aether magic required to sustain it.

"I understand that there are many risks involved, especially to correct a catastrophe of this scale," Elidibus said quickly, sensing the apprehension in the room. "I've written up a concept that would find a slight workaround to sustain the deity, but it is not without its sacrifices. But," he looked up into the section of the roof that was blown off - the skies could be seen, cloudy and orange, a foreboding sign. "If our alternative is our world destroyed..."

Another silence filled the hall.

"... On my way here," Elidibus continued, "I've heard our people's plights. 'The Final Days', they've said. Many of them have lost families, homes, their own sanity." He closed the book and clenched his fist. "I refuse to let that be so. If this is the way to steer mankind and the very star upon their true course, I will do so, no matter the cost." He turned to the rest of the Convocation. "Would you all agree with me? For our world?"

The silence turned deafening. Disappointed with the lack of response, Elidibus tucked the tome back into his robes, his shoulders slumped, dejected.

"It is worthy of consideration," Emet-Selch said.

Azem stared at their old friend.

"Should we consider this," he continued, "there are many factors involved, but we might not have the luxury of time and choice."

The Convocation buzzed with discussion. Azem's mind reeled. After millions of deaths, so many cities leveled and destroyed, they were considering a zero-sum solution. They did not fault Elidibus for this suggestion; indeed, there was not much choice. However, even if the Summoning does succeed and their calamities stopped, what more will the deity take? After all that Azem have seen, all the lands they have been to with their Council of Travelers... And all the havoc the _sound_ wrecked throughout all those lands, they no longer wanted to see more senseless sacrifices, more irreversible deaths.

"My apologies," Azem said, "But I cannot go through with that in good conscience."

"What?" Elidibus and Emet-Selch said simultaneously.

"I'm sorry," Azem sincerely said, taking off their mask. "I can't."

  


* * *

  


###  **Althyk, the Keeper | Nymeia, the Spinner**

_ {Another week later} _

Within the Anamnesis Anyder, inside the deepest part of Noesis, Nymeia held one of the crystals within the chamber, the gentle white glow lighting from her hand. She closed her eyes and viewed the memory stored within.

_Zodiark has been summoned with half our people as sacrifice--  
Would He need more?  
\--re to stop the calamities, to stop the creation magic going rogue, maybe--  
Another half? That's--_

Nymeia opened her eyes and pursed her lips. Her eyes welled up on the edge of her vision as she put down the crystal down and wiped her eyes. Not here, not now. She had to be strong.

She picked up the cracked remnant of Elidibus' old mask - a small fragment left behind by her own son, before he sacrificed himself to become Zodiark's heart.

"Nymeia?" a deep and gentle voice called out to her.

Her husband, Althyk, walked into the chamber, hood over his head and deep circles under his eyes. Much like her, after their son had gone, he had not gotten much sleep.

"This was where you were," he said, pulling her into a hug. With her sitting and him still standing, she leaned her head on his chest as she held the mask in a vice grip.

"Forgive me for not telling you," she said somberly. "I needed to be left alone."

She could hear the frown in his voice. "Would you prefer I leave?" Althyk knelt down in front of her, his hands absentmindedly going to hers, stroking the fragment of the red mask gently.

Nymeia gave him a sad smile. "No, not anymore," she put a hand on his cheek. "At this point, maybe what I need is your company."

Althyk's expression gave way to a bitter smile as he covered her hand on his cheek with his. The way his hand so easily and gently held hers reminded her of all the times these same hands held their baby son when he was born. And even as he grew up to become the most exceptionally brilliant scholar Amaurot had ever seen, even taking up the title of Emissary at such a young age, he was always their child, their boy.

And now he was gone - gone to whatever void Zodiark sent him to, to power His existence.

Ever since then, Nymeia had known no rest, no peace. There was only sorrow and bitterness in her heart. The only person keeping her pieces together was her husband, even when he can barely hold his own. But maybe that is what a husband and wife is, really, when their child is no longer there.

The married couple sat there somberly, as they often did, after the news of Zodiark's summoning spread. Half their people willingly became sacrifices to empower Him, and then another half to grant their wish - to save our world. Since then, of the remaining survivors, their people had been divided into two factions over the deity - those that revere Him as their salvation, and those that have rejected Him with all their heart. Althyk and Nymeia belonged to the latter, as parents who have lost their only son. Those that were of their same mind had a myriad of other reasons; too many sacrifices, too many lost, too much suffering. Even when most of the calamities have subsided, the outside world felt so empty; places of once-great civilizations in smoldering ruins, and the skies were still red - signs that though the worst has past, there is still more to come.

 _Was it all worth it?_ Nymeia asked the question in her heart again and again, clutching her son's mask. But she knew he couldn't answer her anymore.

The comfortable, mourning silence between the pair was broken by soft footsteps in the distance as two figures approached them in Noesis. Nymeia looked up to see Venat and Azem walking towards them cautiously.

"Forgive us for interrupting, Lady Nymeia, Lord Althyk," Azem bowed.

Althyk stood as Nymeia nodded. "Worry not, Azem, you're always welcome. As to you, Keeper of Records," she greeted Venat.

Venat gave her a curt smile. "I am no longer Keeper of Records, no more than our friend here is still Azem," he said.

"They haven't replaced me yet," Azem noted semi-jokingly. "Though I would assume the Convocation have more on their mind than replacing one ex-member."

"Two," Althyk noted bitterly.

An awkward silence. "I'm sorry--" Azem began.

"No matter, Azem," Althyk quickly remedied. "No offense taken from you, rest assured."

Nymeia cleared her throat, refocusing the three's attention. "What brings you two here? Any news?"

Azem stood straighter, their expression serious. "The Council of Travelers - or what's left of us, really - just came back from the city. Apparently there's been a third call of... of 'volunteers'."

Nymeia balked as Althyk stood rigid. "No," she quietly said, nausea piling in her throat.

"I tried reaching out, to ask _why,_ " Azem said. "Though Amaurot still stands, our neighboring continents have all but been decimated. It seems the reasoning was to restore what civilizations have been destroyed by the calamity." Azem took a moment. "Zodiark's influence has been widespread. More and more people flock to Him, but I fear that there might be massive repercussions."

"I do not fault them for it," Venat said. "It is simply a matter of different ideologies. Elidibus and the Convocation did what they believed was right. As did all of us."

Nymeia looked to the fragment of her son's mask, and she felt Althyk's anchoring hand on her shoulder. "I truly wonder if this will all be worth it in the end."

Venat sighed. "Hence, I ask you two for a proposition. Please keep in mind that you are allowed to refuse," he said. "Azem did."

Althyk's grip on Nymeia's shoulder tightened. "Go on," he said.

Venat took a deep, deep breath. "A couple of us seeking refuge in the Anamnesis have thought of a... countermeasure to Zodiark," he said slowly.

Nymeia let the words sink in. "You mean...?"

Venat pursed his lips and took out a tome. _The Book of Summoning_ was mentioned on the cover. Nymeia sucked in a breath, holding Elidibus' mask tighter.

"... Another deity?" Althyk said slowly, the disgust in his voice apparent. "You wish to summon another Zodiark."

"Not quite," Venat explained. "All of us here are apprehensive about Zodiark's growing status as the salvation at the cost of so many. We've all lost friends, family, our homes even before He was summoned; and with sustaining Zodiark, we are paying more and more of that cost. It has become concerning."

"'Concerning' is a mild way to put it," Azem added. "Hence, Venat and many of the others have agreed to do a similar Summoning - to stop Zodiark before it's too late."

Nymeia turned to Azem. "But you refused?" she asked them.

Azem pursed their lips. "I... I don't know. I would rather not ask any more of our people to give more to save the world," they said sincerely.

"But you will not stop Venat's course of action, nor the people who have agreed with him," Althyk said. Azem only nodded somberly.

Nymeia stopped to think. Venat's concept was logically sound. Create an equal force to fight an opposing force. But... another Summoning, after losing her son so soon? And how would they know this would work? Zodiark only grows more powerful as time passes. Would summoning another deity be enough? Would it end the suffering? Or would it end them all instead?

"Who has agreed?" Nymeia asked.

Venat put his hand on his chin. "Lord Thaliak and his proteges, Llymlaen and Nophica, have agreed. Menphina and Oschon of the Council of Travelers as well. General Rhalgr and his children, Halone and Byregot, have also agreed, but since Halone has no creation magic, Lord Thaliak is working on an alternative. Many of their followers, and most of the people seeking refuge here, have agreed." Venat knelt to Nymeia's eye-level, but it ended up looking like he was bowing to them. "That leaves you, my Lord and Lady."

That was almost everyone in the Anamnesis Anyder. For those that refused, Nymeia presumed that Azem would lead them somewhere safer than in-between the two factions. She looked to Althyk and there was a certain burning fire in his eyes - a fire that she hadn't seen in a long time, not since the death of their son. He met her eyes, and she knew - despite what he would think, he would always defer to her judgement. He always did.

She looked down on Elidibus' broken mask, and stroked it carefully, allowing a single tear to slip through.

"If we agree," Nymeia started, "Would we be able to see him again?"

Silence, and then: "Would it be worth the risk for you, my Lady?" Venat asked, and the question reverberated in her soul.

 _Maybe this is what you had to ponder on as well, my son,_ Nymeia thought.

She looked to Althyk, and he immediately understood. "We agree," he said.

  


* * *

  


###  **Nald'thal, the Traders**

_{A few hundred years later, after the Sundering}_

Pathetic, Hades thought.

As he observed the farmers and hunter-gatherers of this shard, the Source of the Sundering, he thought, _What a fleeting, meaningless life._ The technique to which they cultivated their crops was abysmal at best. The quality of their farm animals were less than desirable. Their hunting formations were sloppy and inefficient. Seeing these poor imitations of their old world try their best to live, Hades only grew more bored seeing them struggle day by day.

There was one community that seemed to _barely_ live up to par with their old way of life. Their "mastery" of their aether and magic was commendable - for a mere shade. He had only slightly enjoyed himself more watching them. They were slowly starting to build something resembling civilization, and though Hades wasn't impressed, he was still interested to see their development.

At this point, after so many centuries after the Sundering, his initial burning rage towards Hydaelyn and what She has caused has turned into a slow, simmering, calculated fire. Him observing these inferior lifeforms was only a part of the long game he and the other Unsundered have planned, thousands of years in the making.

"Emet-Selch," a voice called him from behind. As he turned, he was greeted with Lahabrea's possessed form, this time a young boy with an overbite and dark complexion.

Hades tilted his head. "A bit younger than usual, Lahabrea," he commented.

"This boy has a vast well of aether compared to his peers," Lahabrea said, and his deep voice coming from such a young boy was only slightly uncomfortable for Hades. "We can use him. His parents are prominent figures within his community."

Hades sighed. "The more you jump between vessels, you do it often enough over the years, your power may wane," he warned.

Lahabrea shrugged. "No matter. This boy will die in seventy, eighty years. maybe to a hundred if he is lucky. What is that in comparison?" He walked towards Hades. "More importantly, I think this will interest you. The leaders of this community have... a theme in their names."

Hades raised his eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

"Their king and queen are named Althyk and Nymeia," Lahabrea said.

Hades stared at him, long enough to be uncomfortable. "Well then," he simply said.

"There's more," Lahabrea continued. "Nymeia has an attendant named Rhalgr. Two of his soldiers are named Halone and Oschon. Two of their brightest members of the community are named Thaliak and Nophica."

At Nophica's name, the name of one of his old friends, Hades turned. He clenched his fists, willing the spike of rage within him to calm. A flitting memory passed through his mind, during the day of the _sound,_ when she had asked for his insight that day regarding Azem's problem. And again, another memory, during the day of the Sundering, where he saw her as one of the summoners of Hydaelyn, and the way his heart sank seeing her.

Even through all these years, he held no contempt against her with her decision. She did what she thought was right, as did he. Hythlodaeus and Azem would have said the same.

But Hydaelyn moving fate towards a course where there was a community of people with familiar names, names that he had held dear, filled his heart with a cold fury.

"A Menphina, a Byregot, and a Llymlaen also exists among them," Lahabrea continued, but then hesitated.

Noticing his pause, Hades turned. "What more is there?" he asked.

"There is a woman," Lahabrea said. "She is... familiar."

"'Familiar', how?"

He put his hand on his chin. "Maybe you should see her for yourself."

  


* * *

  


This new body wasn't the best, Hades contemplated, but it was enough to suit the purpose. Much like the boy Lahabrea hijacked, he had a new vessel with a decent amount of concentration of aether, and his mastery of magic was passable compared to the rest. A severe downgrade to his true form, but it will suffice. Apparently his body is one of the rulers of the community, and therefore had access to places Emet-Selch would not be able to enter inconspicuously, especially in his true form. All in due time, his actions would slowly cause a Rejoining. Slow and steady, slowly and surely. He only had to be patient.

As he scoured the memories of this man, reaffirming his connections and lineage and personality, the nearby bushes sounded.

A woman walked out wearing regal, formal clothes, a fan in her hand and what looked like an expensive hairpin tying her hair up. Hades had never met this woman before, but one look through her eyes and a familiar feeling cut through him.

"Nald?" the woman questioned him. "Your twin Thal has been looking for you. Apparently Althyk requires both your presence. You should hurry."

Hades scoured his memories for her name, and _Azeyma_ cut through his mind, as clear as day. She was one of the nobles in the community, a highly-respected lady, and an old friend to Nald's family.

"I shall, Lady Azeyma," Hades - Nald - bowed to her and walked past, doing his best to imitate his vessel's usual mannerisms.

"Wait," Azeyma stopped him with her fan, and Hades nearly clicked his tongue. This mere shade was somehow extremely familiar, but he cannot place it. "Are you well? Your complexion seems... different."

"I assure you, I am fine," Hades said in Nald's coarse voice. "I must be off."

It was then that he saw the symbol on Azeyma's fan, a symbol he knew as well as his own. A single circle and a dot inside it, the symbol of the sun. Hades' mind brutally flashed back to his old friend's final words to him, on the day of Zodiark's summoning.

_"I am the Traveler, Hades," Azem said. "I have seen many different people, many lands, many cultures. I will not ask those people to sacrifice themselves to a deity they will not understand," they said. "Truly, forgive me, old friend."_

The cold fury within him, directed towards Hydaelyn, burned colder than ever.

"If you insist," Azeyma said as she walked away. "I will see you soon, old friend."

Hades only barely managed to spit out the words. "Yes, my Lady."


End file.
